


Colors

by KaiSkitty



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: M/M, Necrophilia, Yaoi, cross-dressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 18:58:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13417575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaiSkitty/pseuds/KaiSkitty
Summary: It was just a banquet of lies. BarSin





	Colors

**Author's Note:**

> This is my humble gift for my wonderful friend soreita in tumblr's magi new year exchange event. I hope you like it baby.

Even as a child, Sinbad was a total _heartbreaker._ His chubby cheeks and sparkling golden eyes never failed to melt away people’s hearts and the blinding smile on his pouty lips was more than enough to bring unyielding happiness, even to the gloomiest of people in the small village he lived in. Women cooed and fussed over him as though he was the most precious creature in the world and men patted his soft lilac hair time to time in affection, wishing to have such strong brave baby boy.

As he grew up, nothing changed. He was still the same charming heartbreaker, now not only in his village, but also in the town. He had the same molten gold eyes and attractive smile, alluring women like a siren. Combined with his high cheekbones and strong jaw and long silky hair, he was the holder of nearly most female population of the town’s hearts, if not all. It didn’t matter that he was only an adolescent, women were all over him thanks to his strange charisma like a moth to flame. He received shy smiles and bold winks in the harbour, showing that no matter what kind of personality a woman had, he still had robbed them off their heart. His ability to sweet talk which was rare for a boy at his age didn’t help either because it made poor women just fell deeper and harder. Even grown up men couldn’t seduce women like he could. He was like a forbidden fruit, not ripe but still tempting, waiting for the right time to be harvested.

Truth to be told, he loved to be the center of attention and getting spoiled with affection like a little prince he yearned to be. He would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it, be it an offer to a juicy red apple or a quick playful peck on his cheek. Despite those gestures of affection and playful closeness with pretty women though, he was never sexually aroused, not even once. At first he had freaked out, thinking that something was wrong with him compared to the boys his age who never kept their mouth shut about their non-existent sexual experiences, but then he figured out he just needed his own _type_.

He was shocked to see his _type_ motionless several days later in the river.

….

The woman was slim with naked breasts which were unusually plump for someone as tall as her. Her skin was pale in contrast of her long fiery red hair which was matted in seaweeds and dried blood, a grotesque vision of red and green hue. The sun was beginning to rise, giving her body a serene glow of roseate in the dawn. Her smooth golden skin looked ethereal and Sinbad drank the sight of her in numb fascination, never before seeing a woman like that. She was an exquisite palace lady for sure and all women he had seen in his life were humble ones with simple outfits and plain faces. Her body was nearly crushed like a broken piece of pottery between the sharp rocks with her expensive silk dress torn apart here and there.

As he pulled the body out of the water, ruby and pearl adornments started to fall from her ivory neck and bruised wrists, a sign that her corpse had been floating aimlessly in the water for quite a while for the strings of jewelry were ruined. Her lips were half open and blue, the water between them giving the image of a woman who had just been kissed, lips with tainted with her lover’s saliva. Her makeup was like smudged ink on a love letter on the abused canvas of her body. That thought made Sinbad shiver with misplaced wrong inner images and stirred foreign feelings in his gut. In that moment he decided not to force air into her like he had planned to do. What was the point? The woman was already dead and those lips were too erotic to press against. He was afraid to do something stupid.

He took a deep breath, diverting his attention from the dead woman, running towards the town to get the guards, not wanting to have any more sick thoughts about a corpse, no matter how beautiful.

She turned out to be a seductress spy in the palace who guards were looking for her dead body for ages.

From then on, _red and green_ became Sinbad’s favorite sexual color. _The dual color of that woman’s hair_.

* * *

 

Despite his numerous adventures and experiences in different countries and with different women, be it a brothel dancer or a high class lady, Sinbad of the seven seas never felt the intensity of desire for that drowned woman with anyone else again. It was not like that he didn’t enjoy intimacy, it was the abstract of the vision of that drowned woman which kept him from a complete carnal pleasure. That was until he met a man called Barbarossa.

When he had first arrived in Parthevia, his home country with King Rashid, he couldn’t help but gasp in shock as he set foot into the royal palace in disguise of the King’s guard. Ivory and silver pillars, beautiful spotless marble floor and heavy but delicately designed golden chandeliers, shining like diamonds embraced him as if in a magnificent dream. It was nothing like he had always imagined, harsh and gray as expected of a military country, it was a paradise on earth with its huge dance patio in the back, making Sinbad’s head spin with all the uniqueness. Ladies of the court were more than beautiful, with fake charming smiles, floral perfumes and big feather fans to veil the temptation beneath. The way gentlemen treated them, with respect and flirtatious smiles at times, immediately reminded the lilac-haired boy of that drowned woman who was a court spy. His heart started to pound in his chest. Any of these woman could be a spy right now. They were all beautiful enough to close a man’s eye with a blindfold called wicked desires. It was at that moment he found a way to penetrate into the enemy’s mind, a way to their mind through his body.

The problem was that he didn’t exactly know how he could turn into the shining beauty of the palace, having the high class society under his feet when needed. He had luxuriant hair which he didn’t know how to correctly arrange and couldn’t use makeup on his vibrant orbs. But as time went by he became aware of what the royal standards of aristocracy meant, that it was an art of letting sensuality go wild in one’s curves and words.

In the palace, they knew the provocative value of erotic heavy black satin even if it meant just the rooms’ curtains. They knew the mystery of tulle gloves, protecting ladies’ delicate fingers from gentlemen’s kisses, too hot for their fragile skin. Sinbad was not going to lose to shyness. He knew that the most sought out women were wanton whores or pretty dancers or _beautiful spies_ who were generous with their bodies and he was going to be more than generous.

* * *

 

A carriage stopped in front a cottage house. The building was old and completely smothered with ivy, windows covered with dark curtains which made the interior dark and melancholic on purpose. A tall man stepped down the carriage. “Wait here.” He whispered, voice full of authority and the driver nodded in respect, knowing that despite the biting cold he had no choice but to obey.

The tall man entered the house, not taken aback one bit by the unlocked door. The old wooden floor creaked under his feet as he started to climb up the stairs with slow steady steps to reach his intended room, a secret room for a secret rendezvous. The second floor was surprisingly overdone compared to the first, all elegant decoration and expensive carpets and china, the complete opposite of the wreck downstairs. It was like an ugly hut turning into a shiny castle in a fairytale.

Walking gingerly towards a room with a big wooden door at the end of the corridor, he entertained himself with sounds of heavy yelling and loud hissing. 

_"I just cannot understand! Why do you do this? Aren’t there other ways to seek information? Why do you whore yourself out?”_

_“It is called an escort.” A cold voice answered._

_“with a psychopathic cad? I don’t think so! You are sleeping with the enemy!”_

_“Am I?” There was a careless hum. “I am just playing around. Let’s face it. Right now the Sindria company has not enough power to give this problem a direct shot.”_

_“You **do** know that he is only using you for his own fun. Do you know what did he say to me when I first met him? I asked how much do you know Sin? You know what his answer was? He said more than you think. We had sex. Shameless bastard.” _

_There was a silent laugh in response. “And now look at you. God forbid, why are you dressed like a drag queen!?”_

_“Don’t be so rude.” This time the voice was serious. “I just dress differently when he is around in private. That is all.”_

The tall man, Barbarossa, grinned triumphantly and decided that it was time to make his grand entrance. He knocked softly and entered the room, not waiting for permission. The room was like a den, full of expensive carpets and rugs from Parthevia, erotic portraits from Kou, crystals and seashells from Imuchakk. He stumbled upon a mass of silk and lace, high-heeled shoes and long pearl necklaces with matching bracelets. Looking around he saw different jewelry and colorful hair clips lying here and there, varied underwear thrown carelessly over the beautiful bamboo partition.

“Sorry, I had a hard time deciding.” Sinbad who had jumped in surprise at his sudden presence said and stood up from in front of the vanity mirror to greet Barbarossa, while Ja’far was fuming in the corner, pretending that the tall man is just a ghost.

Barbarossa waved a dismissive hand. “It is ok. I have arrived early. Do not mind me. Continue with your task.” He whispered in a way that the young adventurer shuddered inside.

He sat in front of the mirror once again, examining himself critically through kohled golden eyes as he continued painting his lips red with a soft delicate brush, trying not to blush under Barbarossa’s intense gaze. He finished his task fast, as if he was a courtesan who was called by his master in a sudden instant of whim.

“You look pretty like this.” Barbarossa praised as he hovered above the smaller man and twirled a stray purple strand of his hair around his finger. “I have brought you flowers.” He smiled charismatically like a secret lover who kept bringing eye-catching gifts for his beloved to woo him.

Sinbad smiled back. “Thank you very much my lord. You should stop spoiling me.” He pointed at the vanity which was full of vases of red roses meaningfully.

Barbarossa handed him a bouquet of roses with a playful eye roll and Sinbad laughed in good humor. “I will have Ja’far to bring another vase.” He said as he gently placed the roses among the profusion of the others on the table and nodded at Ja’far who was more than happy to escape the room.

“You are way more precious than them.” Barbarossa whispered seductively and touched Sin’s cheek softly, undressing him with his eyes, watching the youth’s thick eye lashes fluttering sultrily. Those heavily kohled golden orbs looked like a tiger’s about to strike. His elongated eyes did not close as others’ did, but like the eyes of tigers, the two eyes met lazily and slowly and they seemed to sewn towards the nose, making them narrow with that thick black kohl with a lascivious, oblique glance of a diva with an air to make love to.

“Really?” His voice was soft, so different from the Sindria company’s powerful owner. It was like a breeze lost in a heavy storm. How ironic. Now it was not about information at all. Whenever Barbarossa was around Sinbad’s body softened automatically, his hips began to sway, his face became of a salacious downtown society woman despite the exorbitant adornments he was wrapped in. His lips kept pursing petulantly, waiting to be swollen with bruising kisses. He would change into a fascinating burlesque gypsy no matter how lady like he looked.

With Sinbad,Barbarossa could run a gamut centuries of love to lore. With him there was no age gap neither maturity or innocence. With him it was just a flawless thrill of wretched enchantment.

He eyed his younger lover up and down. His figure was wrapped in lace and velvet, his dress shiny and flashy on his lean but firm figure. “This is a bit loose for you.” He observed.

Sinbad’s laugh was wanton. “Even the tightest corsets cannot make up for the lack of breasts.” He pointed at his tulle corset which obscenely was showing through his dress.

Barbarossa would have said that there is no need to fix that delicious scene but they were going to a court event. “True. But this can.” He leaned and fixed a golden dress pin on the strap of the other’s dress. A dress pin so unique that all Sinbad’s treasures could not rival.

Sinbad’s breath hitched for a second. “Oh…my lord…” He whispered as he carefully touched the dress pin with his satin glove-covered fingers.

“It looks good on you.” Murmured Barbarossa and ran his hand through Sinbad’s loose hair, still unstyled and wild. He touched the juicy red colored lips with his other hand slowly, making Sinbad to open his mouth and suck on the long fingers gently.

Barbarossa sat him on the vanity table, standing in between his legs. Still sucking on the older man’s fingers seductively but greedily, like someone who was deprived of nourishment for a long while, Sinbad mewled in delight. Barbarossa’s smirk was wicked as he slid down at the youth’s feet, only to rise again, this time carrying his dress upwards in a swift motion.

“My lord…. right now we can’t….” Sinbad moaned throatily but his toes curled in anticipation, making him kick his shiny black high-heels off so hurriedly that even shocked himself. With his face a floating portrait of an unwritten pleasure, he parted his legs as far as they could go, almost breaking them apart in the process with the force of need, pulling the taller man into a much needed sinful kiss.

It always amused Barbarossa to see the usual sly brash youngster acting so immoral but demure at the same time. The vanity mirror reflected Sinbad’s erotic image as he tossed and turned on the wooden table, dreamily and languidly. He was leaning against Barbarossa chest, dress half fallen off his olive-colored shoulder even with the dress pin, giving him an image of a _messed up drunk entertainer_.

He panted as his golden hoop earrings jingled and tangled harshly into his now disheveled hair, hissing in pain and moaning in pleasure at the mental image of his long hair being pulled back by an invisible rough hand. He circled his arms and legs around Barbarossa, arms around his neck and legs around his torso. “Kiss me my lord…. kiss me.” He offered his crimson lips pathetically and if Barbarossa didn’t know better he would have said that Sinbad was begging him.

_‘I will give you this pleasure until I get the pleasure of seeing you broken.’_

_‘I will take this pleasure from you until I get the pleasure of settling the score.’_

They both thought hazily with lust, _lost in red and green_ , red of Sinbad’s smudged lipstick and green of Barbarossa’s disheveled hair.

* * *

 

I am sorry this has turned into a soup of eastern and western culture and dressing. I could not resist. 

Thank you for reading. Feedback is always welcomed.


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